


Stories from the Moles of the White City

by maxvell



Series: Stories of the Moles of the White City [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Also basically Oc study too, Angst, Basically a big fic covering people in Gondolin who are not Nolor, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mentions of PTSD, Most of these guys were captives in Angband at some point, Multi, POC Elf Characters, Points of View, Transgender Characters, implied racism, in this house we bring shameless representation, non-binary characters, the Avari are very downgraded in Gondolin and it shows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxvell/pseuds/maxvell
Summary: History is told by those who either win the war or by those who outlive it. When Gondolin falls, everything known about Maeglin falls with it, and only the twisted tales of heartbroken survivors last.Tinwë, however, finds that history books may not always be right, and thus he begins a search; the search for the truth.The truth about Maeglin and in turn, the Avarin communities in Gondolin.These are the different answers, from those who hated him, to those who served him, and to those who loved him.(a.k.a a very, very long character study told by the perspectives of several characters- both cc and oc)
Relationships: (mentioned) Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Aredhel/Eöl (Tolkien), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion, Findis & Findion (oc), Findis (Tolkien)/Original Male Character(s), Findis/Tinwë (oc), Maeglin | Lómion/Original Male Character(s), Original Elf Character/Original Elf Characters
Series: Stories of the Moles of the White City [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718443
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue- Tea and Nolofinweans

**Author's Note:**

> Alright ladies welcome to my first big fic! This is currently the big project I’m working on, though just as I finished writing this prologue it’s 4am, so I’ll return in the morning to properly edit it. The main story itself is told in the P.O.V of Tinwë, one of my main ocs and one who is very dear to me. He actually has a readable wiki which you can check here ( http://aminoapps.com/p/bsw8ao ) if you’d like. I’ll also give the heads up that this is not a very soft-hearted story, as it very much establishes parallels between our world´s racism and the way the Noldor treat the Avarin elves in Gondolin

The winters of Valinor were not at all as I had grown used to them being. Here the snow is soft, harmless and innocent, and if anything, kids around Töl Eressëa seem to be rather eager to see it every year. Lucky summer children. I’m glad they’ll never had to endure the things Annaro, Finno and even tiny Iltarië, had to so many thousand of years ago on the freezing Helcaraxë. It is not yet the peak of the season, however the cold is already showing. I feel it sinking in my bones, the phantom of its former lack forgiveness lurking on the back of my mind at all times, as it has for many years now. Not all is lost for me, however; there is still warmth and gladness among the cold streets. More precisely, thanks to the idle arm wrapped around mine, gentle as always and as everything Findis always does.

Other things also bring joy to what would otherwise be a very boring and mundane day- mainly the fact that ahead of us is the palace of the Noldorin island- and within it, Fingolfin and Anairë, who await us for what might just be one of the most promising tea times of the yén.

“You are tense." Findis commented, her head resting against my shoulder on a way that I can see naught but her golden hair locks. "She’s your sister, not Morgoth or Gorthaur, it’s not going to be as bad as you think." She assured. Easy for her to say, her relationship with her brother has never deteriorated, even after Nolofinwë had gone and forsakened her. Anairë and I, however, are a different story. We never got along, and it did not get better after I followed most of our kin.

"I’d rather spend another two decades in the Helcaraxë than to spend two minutes with that witch" I mutter quietly under my breath, my eyes narrowing to the point where I can barely see. That’s how much the thought of spending time with dearest Anairë makes me want to cry. The comment earned me a slap on the arm from my beloved, who looked up at me with nothing but disapproval and scolding.

"You talk about her as if she’s Thurigwethil returned. Anairë is a loving soul, just as yours, and yet you insist on demonizing her. At least some things never really do change." She murmured, her head shaking in fake amusement. Findis was never one known for openly sharing her opinions, however when it came to me, she never held anything back. If that was for actual concern over me or for the chance of criticizing me is debatable.

‘That’s exactly what she wants you to think! The woman may as well be one possessed by The Dark Hunter." I scoffed in disbelief. After all, did not all demons try to seem approachable before they sank their fangs in? She’s just another like those.

Findis shook her head in dismissal. I am a stubborn mule, she knows my opinion won’t change easily, nor does she have the patience to keep pressing on the matter at the moment. We carried on our way silently after that, and the walk to the High King’s residence seemed to take twice as long than I remembered it to take. Not that I had walked in enough times to be completely certain.

At the front gate of the enormous palace stood two guards, their shoulders board and heads tilted as high as they were proud. One of them, which I did not recognize, was a very young ellon, certainly not yet even a yén old, and even though he tried to look as though he was unfazed, it was quite clear he was quite put off by our presence. The other guard however, was one I’ve know for almost as long as I’ve lived, his golden locks unmistakable, even under the copper colored helm. Herenyo’s melodious chuckle rings through the thin air, his hand leaving the spear which he rested against the marble wall as he makes his way to us.

"Glad to see you around today, my dear friend. I had put my bets with a certain red haired tailor. He was very convinced you would not show up." He teases in delight as we clasp our arms together in a firm handshake. I scoff, rolling my eyes in a way that seems everything but offended.

"After all my deeds would you really think me a deserter in the face of danger? I thought you’d know better by now, dear kinsman." I murmur. Herenyo then pulls away from my grasp, his attention now turning to Findis. He bows before her, and she returns the gesture.

"It’s a pleasure to see you once more, dear cousin. A herald was previously sent to notify your brother of your arrival, and me and Eludril were sent to escort you inside." He smiled. A genuine smile. Something that was very hard to see on Herenyo Ingwërilion as of lately. Findis smiles back at him with as much honesty,before she moved back to wrap one of her arms around mine once again.

"Likewise, Hîr-Herenyo" she briefly replies, giving him a small nod and motioning us to start moving. Promptly, we do start walking, making our way through the gardens. They are so well maintained that it almost makes the bushes and red roses look fake. The walk through the peak of Töl Eressëa is almost as long as the whole trail from the docks down bellow to the main gate. The stone paths prolong and wrap around the palace in circles, something clearly made so that people would want to get lost in them along the way. But I’m not having that. Against all protests from my wife and advises from my childhood friend, I take shortcuts to reach the residence’s main entrance, passing between trees and thorns, which leave small gaps in my traveling cloak, however I’m too eager to see this done to bring myself to care. The quicker this is over, the quicker this whole ordeal will end, and the quicker we’ll be back home and away from my bloody sister.

In the end however, it does not benefit me much, as only a few meters away from where I parted ways with my company layed the staircase that lead to the home’s front door, and by the time I got to the top, both Herenyo and Findis were looking down at me, their faces a mixture between pity and genuine amusement. For the sake of my own pride, I do not even look at them until I catch up to them, and when I do, it’s simply to offer the princess my arm once more. She does accept it, wrapping her thinner one in mine before Herenyo pushes open the beautifully crafted double doors and allows us to step inside.

As we make our way inside, my eyes don’t know where to look first. Everything is overwhelmingly decorated, from the rare Avarin carpets which are laid on the floor to the chandelier of Noldorin craft which hangs from the high ceiling. Even the ceiling itself is a work of art, painted with frescos I can clearly recognize as being the work of a painter I once knew back in Gondolin, which trail downwards, blending in with the polished limestone pillars on a very skilled and subtle manner. The windows are of a thin glass, but look elegantly bulkier, thanks to the detailed accents composed of gold leaves around the edges, but the main window, is the taller one, which is scarcely made of blue and yellow stained glasses. It’s a window that sands out among all others, not only be a of it’s size and coloration, but also because it’s the one at the end of the first flight of stairs, standing between where two paths form to reach the different wings of the palace. It’s not the window that particularly catches my attention though, but the couple who make their way down the steps in front of it.

Walking down to the ground floor were my kinsmen; Fingolfin, one of my best friends and brother-in-law, and Anairë, my eldest sister. They are not as closely together as me and Findis, however I do notice my sister’s hand, which is resting against Nolofinwë’s shoulder as she looks down at me with as much disregard as she did last time we saw each other, over six thousand years ago in Alqualondë. As if in response, my arms’ muscles tense up to a point where they almost ache. Me and Anairë stare at each other. We are still, but glare at each other in a trance like the one of a prey who is about to be attacked by a snake. And this is one dangerous, venomous snake. The staring does not stop until I’m snapped out of it by my wife, who lays one of her warm hands on my bicep to soothe a temper that, unbeknownst to me, was in fact starting to grow on it’s own within me.

Time passes by alarmingly quickly from then on. We make our way into a room simply decorated and then, into yet another division. This one is a dome, completely made of glass. I note it’s full of plants and flowers, most brought from all corners of Endorë, some from places so exotic I don’t even recognize, and as soon as the four of us sit down, it’s all I focus on in hopes of avoiding my older sibling. I do, of course, reply when I’m addressed, however my words are dry, and soon enough, Anairë stops trying to talk to me at all. Things only became slightly more interesting as Nolofinwë’s children arrive, and my own shortly after them. The ones who do seek us first are Findekáno and Irissë, who greet me and my beloved with notable cheer, specially Finno once he hugs me tightly. I, for my own credit, hug him back with just as much strength, even though I can barely look at his face without wanting to weep, remembering the battle we both perished in so long ago. Guilt threatens to overwhelm me, but it fades away as soon as we actually pull away and I see my nephew’s bright smile. Fingon leaves us once more shortly after that, after learning that Russandol too has arrived and excusing himself from us to greet him by the entrance. Turukáno eventually appeared as well, sitting by our side with Irissë for a while to keep us company. Turgon talks a lot when he’s among people regarded as highly as him, and seems to enjoy spending time with his breached out family a lot. Irissë however, looks much more bored, she’s only there for a while, and the whole time she seats, she looks impatient. As soon as my sons arrive, she leaves with them, getting ready to leave for yet another hunt whilst they wait for Tyeklo to come as well. I do notice though, that Findion is not with his siblings and cousin. In fact, I only remember seeing him briefly, as he vanished almost as soon as he got to the residence.

Without bothering with any formal excuses, I get up from my seat at the tea table, and walk back through the hallway from whence we came before. I almost get lost in one of the all too similar corridors, but then I hear the soft, tender ringing that is my youngest son’s laugher, accompanied by one which is just as harmonious, but much, much more sad and melancholic. I almost make my presence known, however stop myself upon actually seeing Fino and his mysterious companion. Findion is like a warm ray of sunshine, with his bright golden tresses, slightly tanned skin and piercing green eyes; but the ellon beside him, however, is like the polar opposite of him. His back is partially turned to me, thus I cannot see his face, but his hair is of a raven black, so deep that it does not even seem like it radiates any light at all- instead looking as if it absorbs it instead, while his skin is pale. Too pale, in fact. It takes a color that makes him look almost sickly. His clothes are no lighter either, tinted in a grey almost as dark as his hair locks, and the only part that is not the same color is the silver linen that composes the embroidery that adorns this strange young man’s sleeves, as well as the hem of his robes. He has no glow to him, and thus it easy to assume he’s one of the Moriquendi. My son is a ray sunshine, but this man is a beam of twilight.

I cannot tell who he is, but my son and him act as if they have known each other for three ages of the world and more. Unfortunately, before I can see more, voices are heard at the end of one of the adjacent hallways, and the dark ellon suddenly freezes up like a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He whispers something in Findion’s ear, and I let myself get distracted, looking in the direction the voices came from, and when I look back, the dark haired man is gone. Not only that, but my son is now standing a mere rangá away from me.

"Father.-" He greets briefly, something rather uncommon and dry for him "- I thought you’d be with uncle Nolyo and aunt Anairë" he admitted. He did not have to say more, for immediately it’s clear that what he means to ask with it is ‘What are you doing here, and not with them?’

"Aye, I was." I confirm. I look around, as if expecting to see the other ellon lurking somewhere, but before I can do so, Findion catches my attention once more with the skeptic look on his face. He looks up at me, as if waiting to get an explanation. "I was wondering where you’d gone off to. Argon had asked for you later, but could not find you." I half lie. My son raises an eyebrow, only looking more like he’s not buying what I’m saying.

"Arakáno left an hour ago. I bid him goodbye at the door myself." He pointed out blankly. Fuck. I try to think of a witty way to reply, but alas, as Findis says, I am a bad liar, and nothing comes to mind. Luckily, I do not have to actually respond, as footfalls are heard, and soon enough I am unceremoniously dragged away by said elleth. I give my love a curious glance, but upon seeing the stern look on her face, I already know that what awaits me is no good news. I eye my lover cautiously once we come to a stop, but before I can ask what has happened, Findis presses her index finger to my lips to silence me.

"Melmenya, I know how hard it is for you to say here, but I have something to ask of you." She starts off with a sigh, bringing her hands down to hold my own as I give her a nod to carry on. "Nolyo has just informed me that the last ships from the havens will be arriving very soon -within a few days- and in them will be coming Aratanis and the Peredhel.." by the tone of the conversation, I already know where this is going, so I simply nod in agreement at her, switching our positions so I’m the one holding her hands instead. I take them up and kiss her knuckles, breathing out a long sigh.

"I can stand my ineffable sister for a few weeks." I assure her. Truth be told, I too am curious to meet this new side of the family I am yet to see, and it’s not Anairë’s presence that will keep me from doing so.

_I hope_.


	2. Chapter 1- The Smith and The Herald

The balcony in which I stand is quiet and calm. I think this is the first time in which I truly feel at peace since we arrived toNolofinwë’s residence. Most people here are fine. I get along with my nephews, even though they don’t stay around for long. The staff is fine too, even if most people seem to refer to me simply as that Noldo from the Helcaraxë. Had it been some years ago, I’d perhaps have taken offense, but by now I have learnt that that’s always how I’ll always be remembered as. People always remember others from certain things they did and had no control over, not by who they really are.

Most of them at least. I’m not only a stubborn mule, but a more curious than average one as well. Which is what lead me here in the first place. I look down from the balcony railing, and there I see a sight that only spikes my curiosity more. Ahead of me, further inside the gardens, is not my son like the last time, but my grandson instead. Laurillion is the spitting image of his father though, and not many would be able to tell them apart, specially this far away. With him however, is the same figure I saw with Findion mere hours ago, and I find myself asking my mind once more ‘What is up with that guy?’

Both look relaxed, though while Laurillion paces in his signature confident strides, his company takes a pace more slow, reluctant even. They eventually take a turn further in the gardens, and after that they are out of my sight from the balcony. I sigh, slightly frustrated that I had not yet had the chance to see the face of the mysterious ellon, but there’ll be more chances, and I am not yet willing to give up.

Later that day, the dinner is rather uneventful. As it turns out, formal dinners with Nolofinwions are much more dull and boring than those among the sons of Fëanor, which more often than not end up with one of the seven getting a black eye. People rarely speak, and when they do, it’s about boring and mundane things. I’m starting to understand why more often than not, Irissë prefers to stay until late in the night hunting with her friend Mirindë and Tyelko.

Trying to break the silence is hard here, others seem to enjoy it, however it feels like it’s strangling me, the atmosphere too thick to breathe. And I know it won’t pass until I get some disclosure regarding what’s on my mind.

"Who is the ellon all dressed in black? The one who walks around the castle." I ask bluntly. Suddenly, the air of the room changes, and while before I was the only one who it weighted on, now it seemed to weight in all of them. Everyone looks extremely uncomfortable, but the one who looks perhaps the most bothered, is the one who speaks first.

"That’d be Lomion." Turgon replies dryly, busying himself by stuffing his mouth with a piece of cooked pork.As soon as I get the reply, I regret asking the question, and suddenly everything feels more heavy than before.

"Lomion? As in Lomion from the House of the Mole?" I enquire, though I already know the answer. Turgon doesn’t look away from his plate, but gets up from his chair and starts making his way out of the dining hall.

"There is only one." Is all he says, before disappearing in a hallway.

Piece by piece, the ellon’s reserved habits and scarce sightings start making sense. Maeglin Lomion. The Traitor. The one so many people avoid talking about. The one history itself condemns. At the light of this new information, a new question arises in my head. _Why?_ Why did he do it? What would lead someone to betray an entire city like he did?

I take the glass that is resting in the railing. I’m back on the same balcony as before, though the sight has changed into a much more beautiful one. The sky is adorned with Varda’s stars until they can’t be counted no more, and down bellow, the houses of the people of Töl Eressëa are lit up in what becomes a show of lights, which is then beautifully reflected by the water. To ease even more the atmosphere, in the cold breeze of the winter night, a voice can be heard. It’s very faint, but clearly the voice of Tinfang Ainurion, one ofthe greatest minstrels of the Eldar. It is not the first time I hear him sing, but this time it brings more wonder than it ever did before.

"Your mind is troubled." Says Findis’ all too familiar voice. She takes the glass of wine from my hand, downing the rest of it before adjusting her pink cloak around herself. "You know you won’t get things done if you just stand there." I raise an eyebrow at that, looking back at her.

"I don’t think I know what you mean." I lie. But as always, it’s clear that I know precisely what she means. She slightly shakes her head, wrapping an arm around me and resting her head on my shoulder as she gazes at the stars above. Findis always loved the stars, perhaps even more than she loved the light of the two trees, at it was startlight that her eyes held.

"I may have a place for you to start." She thought out loud, shifting into a more comfortable position against me. "There is a smith in the halls of Aulë. He was from Gondolin, and knows one who was known as the Mole’s Pigeon. They were Turgon’s messenger.. and Maeglin’s personal herald as well." My curiosity spikes at that, and my initial confusion changes more into what can be described as bewilderment. "The smith’s name is Turkanaurë, and the messenger was Fëang." She added.

"How come you know this much about supposedly shady people?" I half tease with a knowing grin. Findis chuckles as well, simply shaking her head. "The advantage of being so high up in this society is that the other ladies love to gossip about pretty much everything during tea parties." She hums with a smile just as knowing as mine. We stay outside for a while longer, taking in the view and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually though, it starts to get too cold, and thus we promptly get back inside to retire for the night.

Getting to the halls of Aulë is, putting it lightly, a pain in the ass. The entrance itself is build on top of a mountain, but to actually get to the halls, one has to walk down a stair case that goes twice as deep as the height of the mountain itself. Besides that, it’s unbearably hot. I understand the maiar being able to dwell here, they are after all, indifferent to temperature, but to think elves also roam these halls on a daily basis, it just seems like something a lunatic would try to do. None the less, I suck it in for the sake of my pride, and after getting proper directions, I walk to where my target is supposed to be.

I don’t know how they are actually capable of telling time down here, but apparently by the time I find the blacksmith, it must be already quite late, as there is almost no one around the halls. The smithery labeled as workshop 1587 was quite the change from the rest of the workplaces I managed to see. Everything is immaculate, the tools all in perfect order, and the floor and furniture so clean I can see my reflection as if it was a mirror.

Ahead of me, with his back turned, is a marvelous specimen of the firstborn. He’s tall- almost frighteningly so. He’s probably as tall as Argon, if not more. And his curly hair is that of a rich black, which compliments his dark skinned complexion. He is perhaps a bit too muscular or the likings of most of the Eldar, but it fits his job, and makes him look more in character than if he was more slender.

I must have been staring for a bit too long, because during my inspection, the smith turns around, and halts on his placeonce he sees me by the doorway. His eyes are what catch my attention first; they are mostly of a warm brown color, but here and there they have small streaks of gold, like the last embers of a fireplace that refuse to go out. His face is littered with freckles, and as soon as I take a full look at his face, it’s clear that he is of Avarin background, which probably justifies the small, defensive frown with which he looks at me with.

"Can I help you?" He asks dryly. His accent is also quite exotic, it has a Gondolindhrim sound to it, but also a hint os something more. I remember hearing an accent practically identical somewhere, but I can’t quite remember from where it came from. I blink briefly, snapping from my drain of thoughts.

"I- yes. Are you Turkanaurë?" I ask, trying my best not to sound awkward, even though it’s hard, when the man ahead of me is looking at me as if he’s a stray dog, expecting to be kicked at any moment. He only tenses up more at that though, looking more alarmed, though clearly trying to hide it.

"That depends. Who asks?" He eventually replies. He walks across the smithery, grabbing a box of scrap metals and digging through it in search for something.

"My apologies.—" I start off, stopping in the middle with a cough from the lack of fresh air. "I’m Tinwë, from the house of Morwë. I came to you in hopes you could tell me where I can find someone I’m looking for." I explain. Turkanaurë still does not look up after that. He keeps digging through the small container, until eventually he pulls out a piece from the whitest metal I’ve ever seen. He walks over back to his workbench, starting to work on the retrieved piece.

"I am not a sociable person." The avar states, drawing designs down on the metal equal to those standing on some sketches laying besides him. "So why would anyone send you to me?" He wonders rhetorically, still way too busy to spare me even the smallest glance.

"It’s a very specific person. I’m looking for an elleth called Fëang. I was told you could tell me more about—“ before I can finish the sentence, Turkanaurë turns around looking at me with an expression that I cannot point out if it’s rage, if protectiveness.

"What do you want with Gelien?" He demands, the grip he had on the metal plate tightening noticeably. "They don’t want anything to do with you Noldorin nobles. They never did, and they won’t start now." He points out, his face now one more of scorning.

"I must ask them about something. From back when they lived in Gondolin" I mutter in reply, shifting in my place slightly uncomfortably. Something seems to tick in the smith’s mind then, and Turkanaurë’s breath seemed to catch itself on his throat then. He looks down, then sighs, his muscles relaxing slightly, but still alert and reluctant. He shakes head, looking back at me with more hesitant than aggressive eyes.

"Don’t do that to them. His death took a great toll on them. They don’t like to remember him at any cost." He half begged, his face more pained than before.

"I have to." Is all I murmur. Looking back at him with slight remorse. ‘I have to’, that’s what I tell myself. Perhaps I don’t even have to. But I want to understand. The avar sighs heavily, turning once more to his work, though this time to only try to distract himself.

"I have not seen Gelien for centuries. Not since I sailed west in the beggning of the third age." He admits. "But they will come soon enough. Not many ships are left to sail back to Aman, and they promised me they’d sail at the end of it all." He adds. So he doesn’t know.

"Turkanaurë, the last ships from Endorë have already set sail. They’ll be on our shores in less than a week." I inform him. He looks back at me slightly perplexed. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it just as quickly. "You could come with me, and meet Fëang yourself." I suggest. He looks almost tempted, but in the end, he shakes his head.

"This is where I need to be. Gelien is independent. They’ll know when to meet me. I’ll be waiting for them, but I won’t go before time." He reasons. I’m slightly taken back by it, but quickly come to terms that each person has their own philosophy, and that while I know nothing about Fëang, this smith has known them for most of his life. I give him a reluctant nod, my hands balling into fists out of instinct, and he in turn, gives me a respectful head bow.

He guides me on the way out of the halls. Now that there are not many of the servants of Aulë around to guide me, Turkanaurë- Turko,insisted in doing it himself. For a while we talk, but the conversation abruptly dies now as I ask about from which of the houses he came from. That’s when I learnt, that I was talking to one of the Mole-kin. We eventually reach the main hall- the one which lead to the staircase, and there is where I bid my companion goodbye, and he in turn wishes me a safe journey, though before I have the chance to start walking back, Turko stops me. "Tinwë, one last thing." He calls out, making me glance back with a crooked eyebrow, as if inviting him to continue. He crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly looking more grave."It’s Gelien, not Fëang. They hate that name." He corrects with a small hint of an almost warm smile. I give him a small understanding nod at that, and before I turn once more, it turns into a full, sadistic smirk, and at last, he can be slightly compared to how the Moles are usually depicted to be, sadistic and wicked. "Good luck with the walk up." He teases, closing the halls’ door behind him.

I look back ahead, then up the spiral stairs that go back to the very top of the mountain. My face turns three shades pale at the sight.

  
_Those are indeed a lot of stairs._


	3. Chapter 2- Arrivals and Meetings

The busy streets and moving crowds by the docks are almost like a blow of fresh air after the boring days I’ve spent locked on the palace on top of the island. I usually don’t mind the mundane routines of nobles’ lives, I’ve been living them for over eight thousand years, but I’ve been counting the days to the arrival of the ships for almost a whole week now, and the more I wait, the more restless I grow.

I look down at the mug of ale in my hand, taking a chug from it to distract myself. Herenyo, who sits next to me, simply chuckles, shaking his head. He takes a swing from his own, humming slightly.

"Some things might change, but you sure still have the same tolerance regarding drinks." He lightheartedly teases, moving back one of his blonde tresses behind his ear. He is far more gone than I am or will ever let myself get, however not many seem to mind his current state. Luckily, he is a very cheerful drunk, and not many can find themselves in a foul mood once he downs twobeers. "Tell me my friend, why are we even here? I can’t complain that you are giving me free drinks at all, but you got me curious. It’s not often you venture down to sailors’ taverns."

"Aught to try to distract myself. I’ve been awaiting for tomorrow for too long for my liking, and hesitation has started to grow on me." The Vanya next to be slightly tilts his head at that, resting his head against his palm as he slightly leans on the counter.

"By the feathers of Manwë! Ardatinwë has started hesitating? That’s something I have not heard about you before. This might as well be the begging of the Second song!" He murmurs in wonder. Soon enough, he can’t support his head in his arms anymore, so he simply rests it on the counter itself. Vanyar really have no alcohol tolerance.

"I think I’ll pass, I don’t think we need Dagor Dagorath on us anytime soon. But I’ve been thinking. Turkanaurë said Gelien doesn’t want to recall him at all, so what if they won’t even talk to me about it?" I wonder out loud, tracing my index over the metallic edge of the mug. It’s something that has been nagging me since I’ve left the halls of Aulë. I’m curious, but not an asshole, and as I don’t like people to ask me about the freezing lands, others don’t want to talk about Ondolindë. Herenyo thinks about the scenario I proposed for a while, before shrugging carelessly.

"It they don’t want to talk about it, then you are fucked. It’s not like you can force them to talk unless they want to." I give him a side glare, but eventually scoff and roll my eyes. I take one last swing from the mug, before laying it empty on the counter.

"Such a good advisor you are." I murmur.

We don’t drink much after that. Herenyo is too far gone, and one of us needs to at least be conscious enough to stand. I drag him back to his place, and after that, I talk with his wife for a while, but as soon as Herenyo passes out on one of the couches, I leave.

I glance back to the sea on my way back to the palace, and there let out a heavy sigh, looking ahead, and in the distance, I can swear I see just the faintest silhouette of sails.

Tomorrow is perhaps the day I lay my mind to rest.

Reunions were always not my forte. It’s almost a pity, really. I see families reuniting as elves step from the ships and get back on land, and I almost wish I could be sentimental enough to almost weep like Celebrian when she embraces her twins. I shrug it off for now. Wondering about my own misery is not why I’m here. I’m here to wonder about someone else’s instead.

From one of the ships, a pair catches my attention. These are elves, however they look more like wrecks. Both are cloaked, but only one has their face covered. The hidden one is the last to step out of the ship. I almost don’t recognize him at first, but then it becomes clear, that it’s Makalaurë. He’s so changed it hurts. A couple of scars cross him, his face slightly hollowed from malnutrition, and considering how malnourished he still looks, I don’t think I want to imagine him before he was found. He notices my presence, and before I have the chance to approach him, he turns around and walks the other way, clearly in hopes of avoiding me. Not that I can blame him. Last time we saw each other was over seven thousand years ago, when he and his father burnt the ships and doomed the rest of their family. That aught to be a wound that will take time to heal.

The other cloaked figure is nearby, currently being half crushed by a guy who at first I almost mistake for Maedhros. But Maitimo’s hair is of a red that resembles fire, while this ellon’s is dark like red wine. He’s also too short to be Russandol. But I do slightly recognize him none the less. He’s Mahtan’s great grandson, not from Nerdanel’s side, but her brother’s. Arphen is his name, I think, though I’m not sure. The person I still don’t recognize is a quite short elleth, who hugs Arphen just as tightly as he hugs her, and as they pull away, the brooch on their cloak catches my attention. It’s a silver moon, engraved with several markings, and resting inside it, is a golden sun, much more simple than the other half, but which stands out much more. For as pretty as it is, it’s not the craftsmanship that catches my attention though. I’ve seen one like that before. The afternoon I saw Laurillion and Maeglin walking through the gardens. He also has a brooch like that, though made of a black metal and silver instead.

The elleth’s hands are also something that catch my eyes. They, much like Arphen, Turkanaurë and Maeglin’s hands, have strange engravings in them. They are not tattoos for sure, that’s too taboo for any elf to do, even among the Avar tribes, but they are something similar none the less. All of them have different patterns, however they seem to have been made by the same hand. I decide not to interrupt their reunion yet. Both look like they have not seen each other in a very long time, and who am I to cut that so short.

A while more passes with the two eldar talking, but they eventually part ways. Arphen walks back in the direction of the market, while the maiden goes in the opposite way. I take my chance to follow after her with that, for as stalking as that sounds. She walks through the streets as if she already owns the place, as soon enough, we reach a zone of the city that I don’t remember ever having ventured into.

The bright,marble white streets of Tirion start becoming more cramped, the buildings much closer to each other, and most of them so badly maintained I can hardly consider them to be white anymore. Shouting and laughing are heard here and there, but all in different tongues and accents, all sound exotic, most of them I can’t even understand, but all sound as beautiful none the less.

The cloaked elleth eventually makes her way into a cramped, rowdy tavern, and thus I follow. The lighting is terrible. There are barely enough lamps to keep the place even dimly lit, but most people don’t seem to mind it at all. They dance, and laugh and sing as if they have no worries in the world. Perhaps they really don’t. The just-returned sits in one of the tables, before calling out to a waitress, who I quickly notice shares strikingly similar traits to Turkanaurë. She says something, though I can only try to imagine what it was as the waitress walks off with a remarkably reddened face.

I take this as my queue to approach the elleth, whom on the meantime, was kicked her legs up on the chair across from hers. I make my way towards her, but she beats me to it before I can speak.

"Take a sit and get it over with." She mutters, looking up at me rather bitterly. I look back at her slightly perplexed, but she simply rolls her eyes. "Don’t give me that look. You have been following me since I reached the docks. You are a rather terrible stalker." She scoffs. I purse my lips at that, simply doing as I was ordered and taking a seat in one of the free chairs.

"My apologies for that." I murmur, fiddling with both my hands as I rest them against the table top. She doesn’t reply to that, but gives me a small nod to carry on. "My name is Tinwë." She seems to recognize the name at least, her eyebrows raising in what I can’t tell is it’s surprise or merely amusement.

"Ah, yes, the Guardian Star of the South." She hums annoyingly passively, not moving even an inch. "And what does Varda’s Boy Scout want to do with me? I much doubt you were just following me around for the fun of it." She mutters sarcastically, her lip curling up in a slightly provoking smile.

"You are Gelien, are you not? Gelien Cevendol?" I assume, only feeling more at unease at this elf’s passive-aggressive vibes by the minute.

"That I am." She confirms. She takes something from her bag, and out of it she fetches a pipe and some kind of weed, which she promptly lights up. "What of it?"

"I need to talk to you." I explain. She simply hums in acknowledgement, taking an inhale from the pipe and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It’s about my nephew, Maeglin. I wanted to try to know what he was like, back in Ondolindë. Why he did.. what he did" I add. Whatever calmness Gelien felt seems to have faded away as soon as I mention the name of the Lord of the Mole. Her shoulders tense and she looks more weary. She stayed quiet for a while, her trance only breaks when the waitress comes back, carrying a plate of food and a mug of ale. She lays them on the table, and Gelien forces a smile and looks up at her, thanking the maiden before she walked off.

"How bold of you." She mutters, not looking back at me. Instead she busies herself with staring at her mug. "Following me here, where most people are former moles and over all Avari, to specifically talk about Lomion. Very, very bold." The elleth adds, a grim shadow now casted on her rounded face.

"Fortune favors the bold." I conclude, simply shrugging. The corner of her mouth twitches slightly, and for a while I almost think she has decided to ignore me. She eats and drinks as if I’m not there, and she sure as hell takes her time doing so. Eventually, she pays for her order and gets up, starting to walk off before turning back around to look at me. She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Are you coming, or just going to stand there?" She asks rhetorically. I blink slightly, but simply nod and follow her out of the tavern, this time not trying to walk unseen.

The walk to wherever the Moriquendë is taking me is much longer than the one from the docks to the tavern. We are not in the cramped, claustrophobic Avar neighborhoods anymore, and instead we are walking through some of the most luxurious, richer streets of the island. She eventually stops in front of one of the houses, but doesn’t walk in, not until a figure opens the manor’s front door and lightly sprints across the garden. The elleth opens the main gate, and as soon as she can, slips from it to embrace Gelien in a tight, but gentle hug. They look very alike side by side. Both with short hair, the same undercut and overall similar statures. The only striking difference between them is that the taller of the two has hair of the darkest brown I’ve seen, while Gelien’s is almost a dirty blonde. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume they are twins. The maiden pulls away, and as soon as she notices me, her face changes from gladness to uneasiness.

"Gellë, why is one of the consorts of the Noldor at the door?" She demands bluntly, glaring at the shorter elleth. Gelien huffs, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Calm down, Echtrist. He’s here to discuss something with me, not because I was arrested or something." She mutters. Echtrist spares me a side glare, but seems less stressed at the assurance. She mutters something to Gelien in a tongue I cannot understand, but that I can recognize as that of the Penni tribe, before leading us inside.

I don’t get to see much of the place, Echtrist makes sure so, but the rooms I do see are modestly decorated for the kind of house it is, and most of the walls are hanging with paintings. Paintings from the same artist who painted the frescos on Nolofinwë’s halls.

"I didn’t know Eludril sold his work to people outside of wealthy lords." I admit out loud. The dark haired elleth scoffs, shaking her head.

"He does.But that’s not why they’re here." She corrects me. "He’s my brother. He lives here. Or rather, he bought the place and we all share it." I cock up an eyebrow at the last part.

"’We’?’ I wonder, but all she does is look at me over the shoulder.

"None of your business." She cuts it short, and with that, I don’t dare to ask more. This is a scary woman for sure. She leaves me and Gelien alone once we reach a small study, and there, she sits on an armchair, motioning me to do the same on the one across from hers. I welcome the invitation, and do take the seat.

"I.. didn’t know Eludril had sisters." I admit. Gelien is staring at the nearby lit fireplace with a distant look. One that makes my heart sink. What if Gelien made up her mind and decided that she didn’t want to talk about Maeglin anymore.

"Sister." She corrects. "I’m not their sibling, I’m their cousin." She corrects. "But quit the small talk. It’s because of Lomion that you are here, not to talk about overly complex family trees." I swallow dryly, but nod.

"Alright." I agree. "So what can you tell me about him?" The smile that slightly forms in Gelien’s smile is a sad one, but she shrugs as if she doesn’t care.

_"Where do I begin?"_


	4. Author's Note- BLM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things need to be addressed

Hey there hellspawns! It's been a hot minute since the last update. 

The global pandemic took a huge toll on me physically and emotionally for reasons that I will not talk about here. I actually already had the next chapter completed, but then another surprise came along. 

With the Black Lives Matter movement finally getting the recognition it lacked in the last years, I didn't want to desensitize our current issues in any way. 

It's actually extremely frightening how much the current state of america reflects what is basically the whole plot of this story. 

I want to give poc people their space to speak up for some more time, so it'll take a while before I post the next chapter. 

On a side note, I'm opening commissions next week! I'll be drawing stuff and 90% of the funds will de donated to the Martha P Johnson institute, an organization dedicated to fighting for the rights of trans people of color. The other 10% will be to help me get money to buy a binder (I'm a jobless trans masculine enby who is still closeted, so I can't count on my family to help me with that). As soon as I get the money for the binder, all the rest will be donated as well! If you are interested in getting some art, hop over on my Instagram @eldrichtoast, I'll be posting about it there soon!

Stay safe everyone, and remember, no lives matter until black lives matter. 


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